


Sweet, Submissive Subject

by DonnaM



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: England - Freeform, F/M, Hamilton - Freeform, Historically Inaccurate, Jealousy, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Behavior, Shameless Smut, Smut, saliva, spit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:47:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25167181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DonnaM/pseuds/DonnaM
Summary: This is just trashy Jonathan Groff as King George III smut;
Relationships: George III of the United Kingdom/Original Female Character, George III of the United Kingdom/Reader, King George III of the United Kingdom/Original Female Character, King George III of the United Kingdom/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 56





	1. The Beginning

The ball is too loud, the air too stifling. A pair of blue eyes are focused intently on me, and I can feel the back of my neck burning. Wading my way through the sea of colorful skirts and powdered wigs, I reach the doors of the balcony, stepping out and letting the cool night air wash over me. I think about my family in America, my brother fighting for the revolution, and the people back inside, seemingly oblivious to the struggles of the colonies. Life in England isn’t so terrible, although I miss the hustle and bustle of New York. I have all the dresses I could want, perfumes and jewels, and most importantly, the growing affections of King George. Although I swore to hate him, I have been drawn in to him inexplicably. I think there is a drop, or maybe more, of madness in him, but it only serves to quicken the flames inside of me. His fury and devotion calls to something inside of me. I take a deep breath in, smoothing my hands down my corset. A gentle thud and click causes me to start, and I almost turn around before I hear him.   
“You are too beautiful to steal yourself away from the dancing my dear.”  
A warm hand presses into the small of my back. I shiver, blaming the cold air. I want him so badly I can barely breathe, I want him to not be the king, I want him.   
“Don’t you think this is a little forward George?”  
I heard him scoff disapprovingly at my dropping of his title,   
“You know I’m a king don’t you?”  
“Not my king. I’m a revolutionary, remember?”  
The hand traced up further, a finger drawing circles on the bare skin above my neckline. I keep my eyes focused on a distant light, although I’m sure my flush betrays me.   
“Come back. Distract me from this war I’m wasting money on” he whispers, almost imperceptibly, lost in the light breeze.   
I feel his hand drag down my collar bone, skimming past my covered breast and resting on my waist again. My nipples harden and I take a sharp breath. Strong hands spin me to face him, pressing me against the stone balcony and I finally look upon his face. King George III. His mouth is slightly open, his eyes searching mine. I bring my hands up, tracing the collar of his elaborate coat.  
“George. I-I don’t even know why I’ve been here for as long as I have. The war is al-.”  
“Stop it. You are here because I want you to be. Because I do not think I would live without you.”  
Our faces are so close they are almost touching. He presses his lips against mine and I open my mouth with a whimper. I kiss him back, frantically, and I can feel his thigh wedge itself between my legs, obstructed only by my heavy dress. I moan, and bring my hands up to the back of his head, trying to tug him impossibly closer to me. He pulls away, looking into my eyes. His pupils are blown open, the black surrounded by a thing ring of blue.   
“Don’t ever leave me.”  
He bends his head down, and swears his words into me with another kiss. George’s mouth, hot and wet, makes its way down my neck, leaving open mouthed kisses on the tops of my breasts. I’m practically begging him to take me there, just out of view of the courtiers inside. He yanks at the top of my dress, exposing a hard nipple, and latches on, sucking and nipping until I fear I may fall. I’m saying his name, over and over, and moaning softly.   
A sudden rap on the balcony window, made bubbly by design for rendezvous like this, snaps me out of my reverie.   
“King George! Your presence is requested by the ambassador of Spain!” A shrill voice calls out.  
George groans, and lets go of my breast with a small popping sound. I look down at him, and his mouth along with my nipple, is pink and wet, almost soaked by his efforts. His blue eyes stay on me once again as he adjusts his crown, and kisses me firmly on the mouth.  
“This is not over my dear.”  
He walks out, and I am left to pull myself together on the balcony.   
————————————————————————————————  
I slip inside, purposefully avoiding obvious stares and whispers, and skirt around the edge of the ballroom until I find a door to leave by. I am frazzled and just want to go to bed. I make my way to my chambers, where my maid, but truly my friend, is waiting for me. My one companion from home, Emma is the first in her family to be born in the colonies. Her ties to England were thought to be advantageous for my period here.  
“Emma!” I cross the sitting area into the main bedroom.  
She springs up from her book by the fire when I come in, pulling out the pins in my hair and placing them on my desk.   
“My Lady!”  
“Yes yes I know Emma I’m much earlier than you thought I would be but I have so much to tell you!”  
“No need to” she laughs, gesturing at my neck and bossom.  
I look down and gasp, once again going red in the face. Scattered across my neck and tops of my breasts are three love bites, glowing a bright and taunting red.   
“Oh no” I groan, flopping onto the bed.   
I scream into the mass of pillows as Emma laughs, pulling me up by the arm. I launch into the tale of the night, and how my feelings for the King were finally actualized. By the end of it, Emma had taken off my heavy layers and laid my nightgown on my bed. After bidding her goodnight, I get into my nightgown and under my coverlet. My nipple is still sore from George’s attention to it earlier, and I feel myself tingling from thinking about him. Dangerously so, I might be in love with him, and our small passionate act was from months of dancing around each other, with me too unsure to take the lead. Sent by my family to help soften the King towards the colonies, I am certain that I have taken this too far. What would happen when the war is over? Who would be victorious, and who would I be loyal to?   
Before I could think any further, I hear a light knock on my door. I sit up, with only the candle by my bedside to show my visitor, although I know already. The door opens, and King George comes in. His wig is off, and he is only in a nightshirt and pants. His hair is spiked up, and there is a wild look in his eyes. I take in his appearance and cannot help but feel unnerved. He comes closer, saying nothing. He whispers my name, like a prayer, and kneels by my bed, reaching for my hand. I give it to him, and he kisses it, each finger, and then the palm of my hand. He rests his head on my hand, with his eyes closed.   
“George?” I swing my legs over the side of the bed, with my sheet thrown to the side. He looks up at me, and I almost do not recognize the man before me. The King kisses my two calves, and slowly pushes up the edge of my nightgown to my knees. He anoints each with a kiss, and I look into his beautiful blue eyes. There is a question there, a confirmation of my devotion. I nod, my hair spilling over my shoulder, and he breathes out. His perfect lips lower again, and kiss up the insides of my thighs. His fingers, light as feathers, push up my gown, almost baring me to him. His face flickers in the candle light, and I open my legs slightly, an invitation for more. For him. I am wet with anticipation when he slides a finger past my soft curls, and lowers his head to my sweet spot. I gasp, and reach a hand to curl in the hair at the nape of his neck, the other gripping the sheets with an iron grip. I feel his tongue snake out and stroke me, caressing every fold. I am rocking against his mouth, moaning. My legs have wrapped around his torso.   
“Please George, please please please” I repeat, too lost in the sensation of his finger moving in me, his tongue teasing my clit.   
He breaks away suddenly, and rises up, standing over me. I am a sight, I think to myself, legs spread, core wet and wanting. He is breathing heavily, his mouth glistening with my wetness. A drop of his saliva mixed with my juice drips out of his open mouth onto my breast, hanging out of my nightgown. Cradling my head in his hands, the King kisses me like never before. I can taste myself on his tongue, probing and swirling in my mouth as if he wants to absorb me. Moving back on the bed with the force of the kiss, he follows me, crawling onto the bed, hands still tangled in my hair. He groans as we lie, his forehead against my cheek.   
“Mine forever.”   
His hand creeps down to the edge of my gown again, this time pulling it off of me completely. He cups my mound, and gently inserts two fingers in, stretching me more than before. George kisses my neck softly, slowly pumping his two fingers in and out of me. I am writhing beneath him, gasping and mouth open. George is rutting against me, pants still on, but I can feel his hardness against my thigh. My hands are under his shirt, scratching into his back, and he is moaning my name into my ear. The wet, obscene sounds of my juices and his fingers only add to my arousal. He rubs my clit with his thumb and I am lost. I can feel an irresistible wave rising in me, and I am grinding against his fingers.   
“Cum for me, cum for your king my beauty. ” I crescendo, and tighten my thighs around his hips, almost screaming his name.   
He kisses me, rolling a nipple in his free hand as he pumps out of me. Bringing his wet fingers up to his mouth, he sucks them clean, closing his eyes.   
“You taste delicious enough for a king.”  
I let out a small breath, and tug his hand to my mouth, swirling my tongue up and down his fingers. George’s eyes focus on mine, his need and desire clear. He reaches around so he is sitting half up, and I crawl on my knees towards him, naked. I straddle his waist, and push down on his hardness, pulling off his shirt. He leans forward, sucking and biting my nipple until both breasts are covered in his saliva. I lower my hands to his waist, undoing his pants and tugging them down until I have them at his ankles, and throw them onto the floor. I look into his eyes as I kneel between his legs, using my spit to coat his hard cock. I smear the wetness coming out of the tip with my thumb, and wrap my hand around his velvety member before lowering my mouth to him. The King tastes sweet, with a musky scent. I moan, and try to take his whole length into my mouth. I choke, and his hand on the back of my head tightens. I look up, and his head is resting against the board, like he is in bliss, his eyes cast down to look at me. I bob up and down on his cock, swirling and gagging. Tears are coming out of my eyes, and I can feel myself growing wet again. Soon, George begins to thrust forwards, sporadically.   
“My dear I-I’m” he tries to warn me, but I am ready, and as he cums into my mouth I swallow as much as I can.   
I feel a small amount drip out of my mouth and he beckons me up to him. He wipes off his cum and sticks his finger in my mouth, making me gag again on him.   
“You are a miracle. And all mine.” He brings my chin forward, claiming my mouth again and pulling me against him as we settle into the bed. I fall asleep with his hand idling on my breast and swollen lips, his name on the tip of my tongue. King George III.   
When I wake, he is gone, and I have only the slight twinge between my legs and the numerous love bites to assure me the King was with me last night.


	2. The middle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: while I have a interest in history, I felt no need to make this highly accurate,

I am walking through the garden, letting the setting sun warm my face. The rose garden has always been my favorite, but the hedges make the perfect walk and puzzle solving. Walking across the light gravel, I enter the towering maze, inhalant the sweet scent of the holly bushes. It has been four days since the King came to my rooms, and since then I have only had secret, quick kisses in dark alcoves and heated stares from across the room during court and at dinners. I cannot help but feel guilty, desiring to be held by the same man my family and friends are trying to break free from. I started taking my supper in my room for the reprieve of being made to blush, and it had the added benefit of not having to answer the questions of the other ladies. I come to a fork in the maze, and I can hear raised voices coming from the left path. I cross over, and peak my head around and see, to my surprise, the King and an advisor. The advisor is brandishing a letter, and the King is talking fast and irately. I do not want to interrupt what is going on at the moment. Just in time, I tuck out of the way, hiding by walking around a marble statue of a lion before I am stopped. Strong hands push me against the side of the lion, and I feel soft lips lightly caress my cheek and neck. He pulls away, and his lips brush against my ear, tickling me everywhere.   
“I thought we had an understanding. An arrangement. You are the light of my days and yet somehow you are ignoring me.”   
The King presses into me, and I can feel his hardness on my bottom. One thumb is stroking the underside of my breasts, and his mouth, latched onto the side of my neck, will surely leave a mark.   
“I’m sorry George, I just a-”  
I stop mid sentence as his other hand presses against my pussy over the layers of my dress.   
“What were you saying my dear? To your King?”  
He empathizes his title with tightening his hand on my heat, and I am sure he can feel the dampness gathering. My neck, wet from his kisses, chills me, and I reach a hand around to touch his face.  
“Please George.” I nudge my bottom backwards, and he groans into my ear. Reaching his hand down, he begins to hike up my heavy skirts, reaching around to drag his hand towards my throbbing core. My legs are almost shaking when he traces a finger up and down my slit, gathering my juices on the tip of his finger. I am breathing heavily, and thank God that he is holding me up, because I couldn’t stand if I tried.  
“What a wet cunt you have my dear. Is this all for your King?” I can barely breath out a yes before he is thrusting a finger into me, and adds a second, making me cry out. I can feel his fingers curve inside of me, and my legs are spread as far as possible. Pumping deep into me, George is whispering obscenities into my ear, my only reprieve is the cool marble against my skin. Between his licking, kissing, and rough fingering, I am soon shaking and falling apart in his arms. My eyes shine, and a tear slips out from the sheer intensity of our connection. He draws his fingers out of me, letting my skirts fall back into place. My face is flushed, and I am panting. I finally turn to face King George, who looks at me like he could consume me with just his eyes. Bringing his hand up to my lips, he traces my mouth and pushes his fingers in, letting me clean them.  
“Now my love, I will not have you avoiding me any longer. You will come to the banquet tonight, and you will sit by me.” He grins, the whites of his eyes surrounding the blue, giving me a look that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.   
Looking around us, I tuck everything back where it should be, and walk out of the maze. The King walks next to me all the way back to my chambers, nodding at various courtiers and speaking murmuring to me of his devotion and love. We get to the entrance of my rooms, and he pulls me towards him. Softly, his pink lips touch mine, sweeping across them gently. I lick his bottom lip, trying to deepen the kiss, but he pulls away.  
“The banquet. Tonight” and he walks down the corridor, beckoning a page to him as he leaves me.  
————————————————————————————————  
I look in the mirror. My dress is a soft pastel, accented with lace and pearls. My ears and neck are adorned with pearls as well, which help to mask the small bites King George left. I walk into the dining room, a smaller, more intimate room than the usual hall. With shock, I notice that I am to sit directly next to the King, with an ambassador to my left. Once everyone has been seated, King George III is announced, and the proper customs are followed. He is in red tonight, and looks handsome in the chandelier lighting. Sitting next to me, he winks as wine is poured.   
“You look lovely tonight” George says softly, and turns to talk to his other dining companion, a member of his inner circle.   
As the meal goes on, the ambassador of Spain and I get along famously. The Duke of Floridablanca agrees with me on ideas of higher education, and human rights. He also studiously ignores the pink blemishes on my chest, which is a godsend. The third course is served and I feel a warm leg press against me. A foot nudges mine, and moves in between my two slippers. Moving closer to the table, but continuing my conversation with the Duke, I reach my hand under the table cloth to palm at the King's cock. I hear him stutter his sentence, but regain his composure, only angling himself closer to me as evidence he felt my hand. I caress him over the crotch of his pants, but I am satisfied with the small teasing he has gotten. I undo his lacing, freeing his erect cock under the table. It is iron hard, and leaking from the tip. Using his nectar to help me, I begin to pump up and down his cock, slowly. George turns to me then, asking me pleasantly to pass a carafe.   
“My dear if we were not surrounded by important people right now I would take you on the table, and make you scream your devotion to me” he says quietly into my ear.   
I stroke him faster, and his chair jolts on the floor. He coughs, and I know he is close. I take my hand off of his velvety cock, and tuck it haphazardly into his pants, pulling the laces tight. I wipe my hand on my napkin, and strike an animated conversation with the Duke. He freezes completely, and I can feel his tension. Then, the King lets out a high laugh, then apologizes to the councilman, excusing his nerves. A hand creeps over to me, gripping my thigh, drawing circles on me until I am soaked. He never deviates, just caresses my thigh until a page whispers something to him. The King stands suddenly, and walks out, leaving me wondering what happened, and what I could expect for tonight.


	3. The End?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big fan of Jonathon Groff’s spit

I did not see the King that night, or the next day. I was becoming more than a little irritated with his flippant treatment of me. This morning, I received an invitation to another dinner, this time celebrating the birthday of the ambassador of Spain, Duke of Floridablanca . I tell Emma, who brought me the note, to bring out my most extravagant dress and jewels. I am in a bright red, with red gems covering my ears and neck that were a parting gift from a suitor back home, forgotten. I depart, with Emma dressed for the occasion accompanying me. On the way, I see the Duke and his steward and join them. I wish him a happy birthday, and sit between him and another lady of the court at the Kings table. The meal begins with the first course, a light Spanish soup, and the King has still not arrived. The Duke and I were enthusiastically discussing literature, and his opinions on the works of William Wordsworth. The King did not arrive with his inner circle until the third course, and he was red faced and stoic when he did. Sitting down next to the Duke, George barely acknowledges the poor man, and so I rise to his defense, teasing the King and laughing with the Duke. Halfway through the last course, a beautiful cake with spiced frosting, the King gets up abruptly, stalking out without a word. I am instantly filled with guilt, although it is not my fault, and I tell the Duke just that, and I have no idea what the fuss is about. The Duke, to my surprise, does know. “The colonies are putting up quite a fight. I expect the King is deciding whether or not it is worth it to continue, due to the cost of running a war this long. Spain is reconsidering it’s connection with England as we speak” I am filled with joy, and then confusion. The colonies, free at last? But George assuredly could not want the colonies to be free. Would I have to go back to my family? The rest of the dinner passes in a blur, and before I know it, the Duke has asked to escort me out. I agree, and take his arm, sending away Emma for the night. We walk out, and around the palace. I notice we are progressing slowly towards the King’s quarters, and I stop under the guise of pausing to look out a window.

The ambassador says my name, loudly, and I look towards him. “I’m sorry, I’m just a little tired tonight. What were you saying?” He leans forwards and takes my hands gently in his own “I was reluctant to be too forward to you my lady, but I believe that you and I are quite the match.” The Duke is fiddling with his buttons, and I am confused until realization dawns on me. “Oh! Oh, thank you sir, truly you flatter me but I am afraid I am not looking to be courted or matched at the present.” I pull my hands away from his, but squeeze them gently before smiling. To his credit, the Ambassador of Spain is gracious, and simply bows his head. “I hope that we can remain friends then my lady.” I answer with an of course, and he walks down the hall, disappearing around a corner.

I laugh lightly to myself until I see a shadow come out from across the hall. The King. My chest tightens, and I can see something primal in his eyes. Something possessive. I turn, and begin to walk quickly, the soft carpet dampening my footsteps. A hand grabs my arm, roughly pulling me around. I am brought up tight against his chest, almost slipping but for the hand around my arm and back. King George looks furiously down at me. My heart is pounding in my ears, and I look away from his accusatory gaze. “What the fuck was that my dearest?” He whispers, but it feels like a shout. I flinch, and he immediately softens. A thumb comes up to my cheek, and brushes against, resting on the corner of my mouth. “Were you being disloyal? I don’t think I can take another betrayal with my love.” And indeed it looks like he cannot. His eyes are wild, his mouth open, shining in the light where his tongue has wet it. There are shadows under his eyes, and his crown is askew on top of his wig. The nails on the hands holding me are bitten, and clutching me tightly. I lean forwards, and ever so gently kiss him on the mouth, letting my tongue grace his lips and tip of his tongue before pulling away to look at him. “Never.”

And with that, he leans forwards and crushes his mouth to mine, wet and wanting. His arms fold around me, so that every part of us is aligned. “My rooms. Follow me” George breathes out, and we are there quicker than I had time to think about what I was doing. Shutting the doors behind us, the King rips off his crown and wig, shedding his elaborate red coat. I am on the bed, reaching out for him. We connect forcefully, our bodies pressed up against each other. He sits up, and lets out a wild laugh as he struggles with the stays on my corset. I undo it myself, and he strips off my outer skirts so I am left only in my shift. I go to work on his pants and shirt, and soon he is naked, perfect, and his cock is hard on his stomach. George is on his knees and I rise to meet him, kissing up his chest to his neck, sucking and laving his skin. With that, he pulls off my shift, and I resist the instinct to cover myself. He holds my breasts in each hand, and pinches my hard nipples until I cry out. He spits on one of my nipples, swirling his saliva around until I am glistening. I am so wet I am sure it is running down my legs, and I fall back, tugging him down onto me. “George” I whisper. He teases me, tracing up and down my slit with the head of his leaking cock. I buck forwards, and the King slowly aligns himself with my wet cunt and pushes in. His cock is larger, and firmer than his fingers, and it almost hurts me. I dig my nails into his back as I am filled by him, barely able to breathe. “Are you alright? Does it hurt?” I shake my head no, and he smiles, slowly pulling back out and then in again. He sets up a rhythm, propping one of my legs on his shoulder, kissing my calf. The King thrusts harder and faster, bending closer to me, and I am mumbling incoherently, almost bursting with pleasure. He moves a hand down to my nub, and swirls and rubs until I am clenching and spasming on his cock. George looks at me the entire time, focused on my look of ecstasy as he plunges in and out me, wet slapping noises joining our gasps of pleasure.

“Cum for me, cum, that’s it my dear, you’re mine, mine, mine.” His works drive me over the edge, and I am drowning in him, in bliss. His pace doesn’t slow, and I am being ravaged by my King. His mouth open, I watch with unfocused eyes as a trail of saliva leaves his mouth and drips onto my mouth and chest. The King slams into me, going further and further with each thrust, and leans down, kissing my wet mouth. He is near finishing, and I whisper encouragement in his ear as he moans and lets out a low growl as he cums inside of me. I can feel his hot seed spill in me on his final thrust. I idly twist my fingers in his hair as he breathes heavily on top of me, and the King begins to place soft, wet kisses on my face and neck. I whimper slightly as he pulls out of me, feeling the absence of his length filling me up and his cum trickling out of me. Laying next to me on the large bed, George reaches down “This is mine” he sticks the tip of his finger into my soaking hole, coating it in our cum. “This is mine” he circles my hard nipples. “And most importantly” he drags his two fingers back down my stomach to my cunt, and brings them back, dripping, to my closed mouth, smearing it across before I open my mouth to let him in, “this is mine.” He kisses me, swirling his tongue and mine in our mixed juices, and brings the sheet up to cover us.


End file.
